Ani, You Call Me
by Miranda Crystal-Bearer
Summary: Sesshoumaru ponders what lies between himself and Inu-Yasha.


Ani, you call me. "Older brother." "My older brother." And yet, I have been no brother to you. Blood binds us, but not love. Or at least, no kind of love that should be called as such. We spew hateful words, biting and snapping like the dogs we are. We always go for the other's throat. And yet, for all our words, in the ten years we have been fighting and the many battles we've been in, neither has struck the fatal blow. At first it was only I who never did tear out your throat. And now, it is you who has come just short of killing me. For every single fight, for every drop of blood spilled and poison injected, we've never killed. Every dose of my poison in your veins strengthens your resistance to it. Every scratch or scrape of yours increases my agility about you. Yet we always stop short of the fatal blow.

Why is this, otouto? Why is it we cannot, or will not, kill? Is it because chichi-ue still watches us, breaks apart the spats as though they were our pup battles? Pups, I say, when I was always older than you. As you learned to walk, I was out on the battlefields, learning to kill. As you learned to talk in your pup ways, I was learning the strict orders of court speech and diplomacy. Older, stronger, and more learned, I had every advantage over you when we tumbled about in the den. I never dared scratch you then. Chichi-ue was always watching. But bruises aplenty did I deliver! You learned to fight back, to guard against blows and use your needle fangs. Your claws you never used, as you had never seen them used. Yet well I remember that prickle of your teeth!

Even then, there was little that could be called love between us. You respected me, as the elder, and I was resigned to watch you, yet I do not recall much affection. You were too embittered by my constant winnings and triumphs over you. I was too vicious because of your okaasan. I was still young, the feelings still fresh. Looking back, I see perhaps a hint of what chichi-ue saw in her. Her beauty I would give her. Her power as well. Yet I did not understand, nor care to, her kindness and gentle spirit.

You wonder at my hatred for humans. My distance. I can tell you do. Those amber eyes of your hide little, even now. You never heard the story of how humans trapped me, tormented me, to lure my mother to her death. You never heard the tale of how I was brought back, you have never seen the scars that still lay across my skin. Demons can recieve scars two ways only; by holy magic or by their own claws. You, I have seen, are marked by yourself. I, which only I have seen, am marked by a monk's magic. You saw your okaasan die by a fatal disease. I saw my haha-ue torn to pieces by a purification ritual performed by humans. You've never asked about the fur I wear. You have seen its powers, yet do not know what it is. It is the only piece of my haha-ue they could find. The last scrap of her body. I would not let them burn it. I have kept it, let it fuel my hatred.

Perhaps she grieves over me. Would it surprise you to know my haha-ue was a kind woman? Would it surprise you to know how gentle she was? It was she who convinced chichi-ue to let a human keep a section of land, to become chichi-ue's vassal. For that kindness, they killed her. For that atrocity, I killed them. Chichi-ue was no longer alive then; you and your okaasan had been placed back among her family. She died soon after; exiled from both homes you had known, I found you, left on the road.

Ani, you called me. You did remember. I remembered you. That first day, I thought about taking you back to what I called home; an empty palace with a single servant, where the wind whined and cried through the broken walls. Yet when that bandit found us, and I killed him in cold blood, you turned frightened eyes on me. You were disgusted by the way I treated humans, frightened by the lack of emotion I showed. Though I led you to a proper hunting place, led you to one who would clothe you in something resembling armor, by example taught you to hunt, you despised me. I, in turn, despised you for yor lack of respect and appreciation. That was a very short moonth. After that whenever we met, and I made sure it was often, we fought. We still fight.

Now, followed by a human child, mellowed by the years and a grief that no longer drives me, hatred sapped away by simple ennui, I watch you. Do you know how closely I've begun to watch you? And, watching you, I start to feel the throbbings of regret. I was too young to be patient with you, and so we hated. Knowing now my folly, I simply keep an eye on you, making sure our paths do not cross more than is neccesary. When we fight, it is still the same. Neither can manage to strike the death blow. Given time, you will mature in body, and then we will be very nearly evenly matched. Unlike other hanyou I have seen, you almost have a demon's reflexes and abilities. And one day, I may have to make an effort to fight you off. But for now, we fuss and fight. I mock and lead on, and you fume and follow. It was always thus. Little that could be called love passes between us.

Yet, ani you call me. "Older brother." "My older brother."


End file.
